


Parting Days

by MariaSpade



Series: PruAus Drabbles [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, Fluff, M/M, naked kiss, silly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaSpade/pseuds/MariaSpade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mondays were parting days, when Roderich leaves for work and Gilbert is left behind. He just wants one more kiss. Honest. (Parts of a series but does not have to be read that way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parting Days

Gilbert liked Sundays just fine, but Mondays, Mondays he hated.  
This was because Monday was Parting Day, in his mind. He ahd a home, yes, with the man he loved, a lovely home really, perfect for the two of them and it even catered to Roderich’s higher class tastes. He had a loving family (when Ludwig was in a good mood, really) and a little pet bird that sat comfortably on top of his head sometimes.   
What he didn’t have was a job.  
Well of course he didn’t. What sort of job was he supposed to have? He had no country to his name. He had the Order, but that was it. They didn’t need him for anything, they didn’t need his signature, they didn’t need his presence at meetings, they didn’t need his opinion or anything for whatever the Knights decided to do. He was not needed inside of a little cubicle anywhere or behind a counter or anything. So Monday was Parting Day, the saddest day of the week. The day of the week when Roderich went off to work at the ungodly hour of eight in the morning. And didn’t come home until four or later.  
Which was fine, because it brought them income. It paid for their house, it paid for their trips, it paid their bills. But it left this great big hole in Gilbert’s day.  
Whcih also was fine once he got into the motion of it.  
Mondays, though. Mondays were so hard to get into the swing of things.  
At 7 o’clock exactly Roderich’s alarm went off. It was on the bedside table closest to his side of the bed so some mornings he shut it off before it even woke Gilbert up. But usually it was not the alarm that woke him up but the movements and skin and warmth leaving his side that woke him up. This morning was no different. It was not the buzz buzz buzz of the alarm that woke him up, but when Roderich’s warm skin was moving against his to turn it off, Gilbert awoke. It was like tearing the blanket off a toddler while she slept. It jolted him awake, and quite unwelcomingly. His eyes blinked awake and against the pale morning sun he saw Roderich’s nude figure sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for his glasses.   
It had taken Gilbert a very long time to shake the Austrian man of his habit of coming to bed with clothing on. Because usually what was the point? They were going to come off a lot of the time anyway. But then there was his other habit- this habit he had that used to drive Gilbert crazy. After they made love, Roderich would insist upon getting up to shower, or clean up, or fold his clothes or even put his clothes back on. Now who does that? Gilbert was always happy to roll right over after a nice romp between the sheets and fall asleep. But Roderich, Roderich would insist, really insist, on getting up and changing the sheets (that was why there was tow sides to a bed, Gilbert told him, so when they made a mess of one side they could roll to the other for sleep) or putting his pajamas back on or for fuck’s sake, folding his clothes and placing them on the vanity table before coming back to bed. Because as he would explain in that voice of his, “Gilbert, if they’re left there on the floor I’m going to have to iron them! Just let me go for a moment to fold them.” And Gilbert always let him get up to fold them with a roll of his eyes.   
But he had shaken Roderich of that habit for the most part. And this morning, Roderich’s nude back faced him as he rubbed his eyes under the rim of his glasses and got up to either shower or eat breakfast or whatever it was that Roderich did on Parting Day mornings. Gilbert’s eyes were still full of sleep, itching to close for another few hours, but Parting Days were hardest to cope with for him.  
“Roderich,” he murmured into the near darkness.  
“What is it, my love?” came the quiet voice in return as he circled their bedroom in the dark. He never liked to turn the bedroom light on in the morning if Gilbert was still asleep or mostly asleep. He went to the closet first/ pulling out a bathrobe.   
“Come here,” Gilbert said quietly. His demands never came out as demands, more often then not. They came out as quiet requests.  
“What for?” Roderich sighed. He knew how this went. Too many Parting Days went this way for his liking- he liked to get to work a little early, make himself another cup of hot coffee, get into the motion of things slowly. And it was very hard to get to work early when Gilbert insisted on calling him back to bed for a little morning head or a quickie. And quickies were never quick when they were both lazy and tired on Parting Day mornings.   
“I want a kiss,” Gilbert explained.  
“You want a kiss?” Roderich asked, and Gilbert could just hear how his eyebrow raised in his voice.   
“I want a kiss,” he confirmed, eyes on that glorious rear end Roderich had, round and perky and beautiful for whatever he chose to do with it.   
“A kiss, Gilbert?” He was shaking the robe out now.  
“A kiss. Just a kiss,” he promised. Because he knew the doubt in Roderich’s voice and what it meant, it meant he didn’t believe for a second the morning kiss would just be a kiss.  
“Promise,” he continued, sitting up a little more properly.  
Roderich sighed, and folded the robe over his arm. He gave Gilbert that look, that look that said Gilber Weillschmidt You Dirty Liar I Know You Better Than You Think And I Know What You’re Thinking.  
“I swear!” Gilbert insisted. Roderich gave him the Look again, before crossing over to the Prussian’s side of the bed.   
“Just a kiss,” he murmured.  
“Just a kiss,” Gilbert promised just as quietly. Roderich indulged him, leaning in for a kiss. Roderich’s kisses were the best, Gilbert thought. No, he knew they were. They were sweet, they were always sweet whether they were soft and gentle parting kisses or rough and hungry throw-you-against-the-wall kisses. Roderich’s lips were this taste of sugar and bitter tea and the cake he loved so much. And he was so good at kissing. He knew how to move his lips and when to bite and when to push and how much and where. He really taught Gilbert how to kiss well.  
A hand was on Gilbert’s chest and it pushed him away from the kiss gently. Roderich, his little vyxen, his nymph, his muse, with that little smile, pushed him back down to the bed to lay down, but instead of joining him, he stood up with that little smile of his that said he knew just what he did to Gilbert. Gilbert made a soft noise.  
“Just a kiss,” Roderich reminded him, that little tongue darting out to lick the taste of Gilbert off his mouth. He turned to put the robe on and went into the bathroom.  
Gilbert sighed.  
Parting Days really were the hardest.


End file.
